


let me down slowly (i'll be okay)

by see_addy_write



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 02:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/see_addy_write/pseuds/see_addy_write
Summary: "He lingers there for a few moments, letting the complicated melody carry him back in time, to a cramped tool shed and the beautiful, guarded boy that Alex wanted to kiss more than he’d ever wanted anything else. They’d both been so different, then. While young Michael had been far from open, those prickly, defensive barriers hadn’t grown so tall Alex couldn’t climb them, and the omnipresent warmth in his eyes when he looked at Alex hadn’t yet become clouded with hurt and grief. It had been so easy between them, then. Just two boys, figuring out how to love for the first time and finding refuge in one another.Until his father had ruined it, ruined everything."Post S1 Finale. Michael & Alex in the aftermath, & how time heals all wounds.





	let me down slowly (i'll be okay)

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as fluff, if you can believe it, but i have a lot of feelings that i need to exorcise after the finale.
> 
> michael's lost and found his mother in one fell swoop, found out his brother in law is a serial killer & watched his only chance for answers die, & lost his brother in less than 24 hours. he's obviously a mess directly after the finale, so instead of focusing on that, i wanted to think about what came later, and how it might happen. 
> 
> on the flip side, i'm tired of reading fics that are alex moving on & being petty or vindictive toward Maria or Michael. Being upset, yes, maybe angry, too. but Alex as i understand him isn't going to move on, or try to hurt the people he cares about -- in my mind, he's going to step back, be patient, and do what he says: fight his own battles. say what he needs to say. 
> 
> title is from P!nk and Wrabe's new song, _90 Days_ , which you should definitely listen to as you read, because it's amazing & fits the tone pretty well.
> 
> this is also set in a mini-verse that may or may not continue to grow. if it does, i'll make sure to link y'all here, but for now, the ficlet that started it is on my tumblr, seeaddywrite. it's a glimpse of Isobel and Michael in the aftermath of Max's death. 
> 
> thanks for reading!

When Alex’s phone goes off in the middle of sorting through data from yet another of his father’s top-secret bases, he almost ignores it. He’s been searching through the Project Shepherd files for any information on alien powers — anything that might give Michael or Isobel an advantage on learning how to harness the energy that Max did to resurrect Rosa so they could save him, too. Locating that information is far more pressing than anything anyone can be texting him, as far as Alex is concerned. This is the one contribution he can make to the cause, the only way he can help, and Alex is determined to do it to the best of his ability and as quickly as he can. It’s a way to make up for the pain his father caused these people, a way to atone — and, as selfish as it is, a way to show Michael that he’s not making a mistake by trusting Alex again.

Six months of working together to bring Max Evans back from the dead has done wonders for Alex and Michael’s relationship. They’re friends, now, the kind that support each other and listen while the other talks, and have been slowly moving toward something more — but aside from one desperate kiss when Alex was too drunk to restrain himself about a month ago, they haven’t really stepped over the line. Alex knows that there’s too much going on right now to push it; they’ve got Rosa to keep hidden and Max to save, and after that, Jesse Manes and the rest of his bases to take down. He shouldn’t be worrying about romance or sex, not when he’s lucky enough to have Michael back in his life at all — but Alex can’t help but _want_. He’s proud of himself for supporting Michael through all of this, even before he and Maria called it quits, and he’s glad to know that he’s been a comfort, but he can’t help but feel that if he was only allowed to hold Michael, to tear all of his defenses down and really _be there_ , he could do more.

Alex shakes himself, determined not to get lost in the minefield that is his and Michael’s relationship. He turns his attention back to the monitors in front of him, tracking information and entering his own effortlessly. Codebreaking in the military while under fire was difficult; sitting in a secure bunker with no one after his life is almost boring, especially when one considers the pathetic cyber defenses his father uses. He forgets about the text for another half an hour as he delves into files on test subjects and gets lost in the horrors contained there.

Eventually, Alex runs into another firewall. His father’s defenses aren’t complex, but they are numerous, and it takes some time for the codes he’s running to find away through. While they work, he checks his phone, frowning at the brief message from Liz that lights up his screen.

_I think Michael could use some company at the cave tonight._

There’s nothing else, no explanation or greeting, but that’s not unlike Liz, these days. Her thoughts are constantly preoccupied with keeping Rosa hidden or bringing Max back; there isn’t much time for friends or small-talk. He’s done his best to shove into her life when she needs a reality check, and he knows that Maria has, too, though he hasn’t quite been able to bring himself to join the two of them. Things between himself and Maria have been strained, at best, despite the fact that she and Guerin broke up less than a month after Max’s death. According to Michael, the truth had proven to be too much for Maria — she doesn’t want to be included in the dangerous stuff, though she’s been excellent support for Liz and Rosa through all of the madness.

His phone dings again, and this time, it’s GPS coordinates. Alex assumes they’re for the cave — he hasn’t actually been there, for all that he is doing his best to help Max. It doesn’t feel like it’s his place to go. After all, he only knows Max through their interactions in high school, and a few polite encounters since Alex’s return to Roswell. It feels wrong, somehow, to intrude in a place so full of grief and hope for a man he barely knows, so he hasn’t asked to be included. He’s on the periphery of the group, despite his contributions; Isobel still watches him warily, her green gaze discontent whenever she sees him with Michael, and even Kyle gets a warmer welcome from Michael’s sister than he does. Guerin treats him the same as he always has, with more carefully defined physical boundaries, and tells him not to worry, that Isobel is just trying to look out for Michael — but it still stings.

But none of that matters if Liz is right, and Michael actually needs him. Alex has been determinedly fighting for another chance for six months — because he meant what he said, the day before his hopes got crushed by an entire morning spent waiting for a visit that never came. He’s done fighting his father’s battles. He’s going to fight for himself, for what he wants, and damn the consequences. The first time he walked away from Michael, he was a scared kid, but now, Alex is a fucking warrior. He’s hacked into terrorist weapons’ caches while his base in the Middle East was under fire, and he lost a leg keeping the communications array up between his squad while running for his life— if he can face those things and win, he can damn well face some time waiting for Michael to disentangle his love for Alex from the pain the Manes family had caused him. It’s only fair, after all; Geurin had given Alex the time he needed to pull himself together, after Baghdad.

Meanwhile, Alex has adopted a holding pattern, a ‘wait and see’ ideology that he knows he can’t maintain indefinitely. It’s too hard, and it hurts too much, to see Michael stumbling through crisis after crisis and be kept on the outskirts of his life. Sometimes, on the bad days, he wonders if this is revenge for his own actions after enlisting — if this is Michael giving him a taste of his own medicine, rather than trying to piece together the shattered remains of his secrets to form a normal life. Usually, when that thought strikes him, however, Alex can identify it as his own anxieties talking. Guerin had been honest, when they talked after the end of his _whatever_ with Maria. He can’t commit to anything except for helping Isobel bring Max back. Anything else would distract from that goal, and he’s not willing to be selfish with Max’s life on the line — and, he admits later, when neither of them expect the words, that he’s _scared_. It’s so unlike Guerin to admit such a thing that Alex can only stare, but it makes sense. Alex’s father, his family, has caused so much pain, and all of it, one way or another, had ended up falling on Michael’s head. Alex was scared, too, when he considered it.

So instead of pushing the way he wants to, Alex accepts the boundaries Michael lays out. Meanwhile, he reconnects with Rosa, a friend he’d believed he’d never see again, and supports Liz as best he can while she grapples with the guilt she feels whenever she’s happy to have her sister back, since it cost all of them Max to get it. He goes to PT and continues to work on his endurance with the prosthetic, and even adds some decor to the spartan interior of his cabin. He hangs out with Kyle, who’s turned out to be a damned good friend, despite their history, and he researches. His enlistment period is over in a few weeks, and he’ll lose access to some of his resources then, but Alex knows that he’ll never stop working to keep the aliens — to keep _Michael_ — safe. Because no matter where they end up, Guerin is Alex’s family, and no circumstances can change that.

_Alex, seriously. I don’t want to have to send Isobel out there. She’s finally getting some sleep, and Michael will just end up trying to make her feel better, instead of the other way around._

The second text brings Alex out of his reverie, and he responds quickly with, _On my way._

Just as Liz offers no explanations, he asks no questions — talking about Michael behind his back isn’t exactly friendly behavior, and he knows Liz is probably either knee-deep in her own research or being forced into bed by a worried, over-protective big sister. And if Michael’s actually acting strangely enough for it to sink through the distracted fog Liz has been in for the last six months, there’s definitely good reason to go make sure that he’s all right. If this was before Max’s death, he might guess that she’s trying to meddle in his love life, but Alex knows better than to think Liz capable of thinking like that, now. He wishes she could; then, at least, he’d know she’d be okay.

But no one is really _okay_ right now, are they?

*******

Less than an hour later finds Alex sighing down at a map on his phone. The cave is two miles back from any roadway, and there’s no alternate route that won’t require hiking two miles after a full twelve hours on his bad leg already. It figures that Liz wouldn’t think to warn him about the walking — even when she wasn’t constantly distracted by trying to hold herself together, Alex had been damned good at making it seem like he could do anything he could have done before he lost the leg. Alex hates to admit that he can’t do something, or to ask for help, and he makes sure that he is perfectly self-sufficient around his friends at all times. He doesn’t want them to worry about him, or God forbid, pity him.

So, in true bull-headed fashion, Alex parks as close as he can get to the cave, makes note of the car’s coordinates so he can find it again later, and starts out through the desert with his backpack slung over one shoulder. He spares a minute to wish he’d left his crutch in the car for emergencies, but doesn’t waste time on it. Almost two years out from his amputation, Alex knows he’s capable of making the journey, and that’s all that matters. Afterward will likely be a different story, but he’ll deal with that when forced. For now, his mind is focused on Michael, and why Liz would think he needed Alex tonight.

The walk takes him a little more than an hour, and the sun is starting to sink in the sky, bathing the desert and entrance to Noah’s hidden cave in golden light. Just outside the opening, Alex pauses, the sound of someone strumming a guitar catching him by surprise. He knows that one of Max’s last acts was to heal Michael’s hand; he has complicated feelings on the subject, and suspects Michael does too, though it’s impossible to deny that good has come out of it. Guerin needs the guitar, needs to play music, in a way that Alex wants to understand, but can’t. He loves music, and always has, but the moment Guerin’s hands touch guitar strings, the tension bleeds from him instantly, and Alex was never that lucky when he played in high school.

He lingers there for a few moments, letting the complicated melody carry him back in time, to a cramped tool shed and the beautiful, guarded boy that Alex wanted to kiss more than he’d ever wanted anything else. They’d both been so different, then. While young Michael had been far from open, those prickly, defensive barriers hadn’t grown so tall Alex couldn’t climb them, and the omnipresent warmth in his eyes when he looked at Alex hadn’t yet become clouded with hurt and grief. It had been so _easy_ between them, then. Just two boys, figuring out how to love for the first time and finding refuge in one another.

Until his father had ruined it, ruined _everything_.

But Alex isn’t there to stand around cursing Jesse Manes; he can — and does — do enough of that on his own time. So, subconsciously straightening the front of his leather jacket, he walks into the small space of the cave. Michael’s sitting cross-legged on the ground with his back to Alex, the guitar still in his lap, fingers strumming idly more than picking out a specific melody, and even from this angle, Alex knows his eyes are closed as he searches for the peace the guitar usually brings him.

It doesn’t seem to be working today, though. Guerin’s shoulders are tense beneath his thick flannel shirt, and Alex hates himself a little for appreciating the way his muscles flex every time his grip on the guitar shifts to change chords. He clears his throat after a long moment, surprised that Michael hasn’t noticed him already. He’s gotten a lot more in tune with his mental powers, lately, since he and Isobel began working to strengthen their abilities, and sneaking up on Michael had become as difficult as fooling Isobel.

Michael doesn’t turn. “Liz called you,” he guesses, and Alex has to strain to hear the words over the echoing thrum of the guitar. “I told her I was fine.”

Alex is far from convinced by that statement. He takes a couple of slow steps toward Michael, grateful that the cave is small and mostly flat, because his leg is already starting to get stiff and achy from the hike through the desert — and also because he’s not sure of his welcome. Guerin doesn’t seem particularly pleased to see him, and it’s awkward to be in this cave, where Max seems to be resting peacefully in the glowing orb in front of them while they all work frantically to get him back.

“Well, I just walked two miles through the desert, so can I stay anyway?” Alex asks, aiming for levity. “I could use some rest before I take the return trip.” Sitting on the cave floor isn’t exactly his favorite idea; getting down there isn’t going to be graceful, and getting up will be worse, but it’s not like there are any chairs out here. There’s a tiny cot shoved against the far wall, covered in floral blankets that suggests its mostly Isobel’s resting place, and Alex doesn’t want to be that far away from Michael, even if he’s willing to sit on it.

When Michael doesn’t answer him, Alex sighs inwardly and levers himself awkwardly to the ground, his bad leg extended so that if he falls, it’ll be on his ass rather than the residual limb. His shoulder bumps Michael’s as he sits, and Alex winces at the unintended contact, even as it finally gets the other man to look at him. “Sorry,” he mumbles, the urge to apologize for his ungainliness one that’s hard to suppress, even after all this time. He lifts his gaze to meet Michael’s though, because he refuses to be that embarrassed, and nearly gasps.

Guerin is a mess. His eyes are red-rimmed and surrounded by blue bruise-like shadows and bone-white skin, making him appear more like a corpse than Max, who floats peacefully in the pod in front of them, his features obscured by the glowing surface. And the lauded quiet that comes from holding a guitar is conspicuously absent in his eyes — instead, the brown orbs hold only desperation and loneliness, and an isolation the Alex never, ever wants to see again.

“Michael, what —?” Alex doesn’t know how to ask what’s happened. Michael’s been working as hard, if not harder, than the rest of them to bring back his brother, but he hasn’t looked this bad since the first week or so directly following Rosa’s resurrection. He’s been doing better, lately — at least, Alex _thinks_ so. Maybe he’s missed something?

The idle strumming stops, then, and Michael’s gaze shifts to the pod in front of them again, his fingers clutching the neck of the guitar so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “Mrs. Evans called me, today,” he says tightly, and Alex is struck with the feeling that Michael doesn’t want to answer, even as the words spill into the silence between them. “It’s been six months, and Max isn’t the unreliable type, right? He _always_ calls her back, because he’s a fucking Boy Scout, and she hasn’t heard from him in half a year. And Isobel’s been dodging her calls, because she keeps hoping we’ll figure this out so she never has to tell the truth.” He swallows, and Alex watches as his throat works in the pale light from the pod. “But _six months_? What was I supposed to say? That he’s fine? That he — developed some kind of drug problem and went to rehab, or chased a girl around the globe and abandoned his family? No one who knows him is going to fucking believe that! Especially not the people who raised him!”

The air in the cave becomes tense with barely leashed power, and Alex finds himself holding his breath. He’s not afraid — Michael has never hurt him physically, not once, no matter what was happening around or between them, and he doubts he’ll start now. But it’s impossible not to share the other man’s tension when they’re this close, and Alex wishes he knew how to help.

“I didn’t know what to tell her,” Michael continues, his voice raw as he visibly grapples with the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I couldn’t tell her that he’s dead, because it’s been six fucking months — plus, they’d want to bury him, see the body.” He’s still staring straight ahead at the pod, so intently that Alex wonders if he’s trying to will Max to open his eyes and fix all of this. “I ended up saying I hadn’t heard from him, either,” he finishes with a hoarse laugh, and Alex winces at the sound, hating the bitterness that echoes in it. “I told her he and I haven’t really talked in ten years, and I’d be the last person he’d tell if he was taking off.” The guitar seems to bend under the force of Michael’s grip, and Alex, unthinking, reaches out to rescue it from the explosive power of Guerin’s grief before he shatters it.

Once the instrument is safely put to the side, Alex turns at the waist to face Michael and tentatively rests a hand on his forearm, half-expecting to be brushed off immediately. He understands, now, why Michael is upset. He had to have a difficult conversation, and then lie and pretend everything would be fine. And then, on top of that, he was forced to invalidate his own grief to keep the truth hidden. All of that in addition to the stress he’s under daily, now, is a lot for anyone to bear alone.

“You did the right thing,” Alex promises quietly, even though he wishes he had something better. The right thing for the Evans’ is clearly not the right thing for Michael, and Alex wonders if Michael will ever get to be selfish and protect himself, rather than someone else. It doesn’t seem likely, and that fact makes Alex resentful. “None of us are giving up, Guerin. We’ll figure it out, one way or another, and then Max can set things right with his mom himself.” The optimism isn’t exactly Alex’s milieu, but he knows what Michael needs to hear right now and gives it to him with as much certainty as he can conjure.

“What if we can’t?” Michael is the first one to voice the doubt. After six months, none of the rest of them had dared — even Kyle hadn’t questioned the possibility with Rosa standing in front of him after he’d seen her autopsy photos. Isobel and Liz would have sliced them to ribbons with the sharp edges of their tongues, at least — and they’d all just fallen into the reality that was the aliens could bring someone back from the dead, even ten years later. “Max would never forgive us if we killed someone just to bring him back, and I won’t let Iz try it, no matter how much she says she would, if we found someone who ‘deserved it.’”

Alex swallows. As a soldier, he’d believed himself to be fighting people who deserved death for their crimes. He’d gone to war to fight and win battles, and he had — he’d been responsible for the deaths of man, whether with his own gun or by hacking into their own systems to detonate their own weapons to use against them. The nightmares came whether or not the people he killed were terrorists or not, though, and he lived with the knowledge that he’d fallen to their level — that really, _he_ was part of the evil, too. No, he wouldn’t wish that knowledge on Isobel, or anyone else.

“We don’t know that’s the only way,” Alex says, keeping his voice level as they both stare forward at the glowing pod that is the crux of their most pressing problem. “Max may have needed to kill Noah to bring Rosa back, but there are thousands of files full of data on my father’s data bases, and all of those people were capable of doing incredible things. We might be able to find something, still — it just takes time to look through everything. And you and Isobel working together might contribute more power than just Max, so it could just be a matter of finding the right combination of-”

When he chances another look at the other man, Alex finds that Michael’s staring at him, his expression impossible to read in the dim light of the cave. He trails off, self-conscious under that inscrutable stare. There was a time when Alex believed he could read every flicker of emotion in those features, back when the world still made sense and aliens were a cool villain in action movies, rather than his reality. Now, Alex knows better, just as he knows that it’s stupid to remind Guerin of all the work they’ve been doing to help Max. He’s been spearheading most of the attempts with Liz and Isobel; it’s not like Michael doesn’t know what their options are, and their chances of success. He shouldn’t have recapped it all when he’s got nothing new to offer. Blind optimism is hardly useful, and Michael won’t appreciate —

Suddenly, they’re so close that Alex can feel Michael’s breath on his face, and his own stutters in his chest, effectively ending the inner turmoil their proximity creates. This is the closest they’ve been in so long that his body doesn’t know how to react; he feels flushed and cold simultaneously, aroused and terrified of making the wrong move all at once. He swallows, the noise loud to his own ears, and slowly pulls his gaze from where it lingered on Michael’s lips to his eyes. _This is not what it feels like,_ he tells himself firmly. _He’s not ready. He’s not going to kiss you. Stop getting your hopes up_.

But Michael is oblivious to Alex’s inner monologue and only leans closer, one of his hands lifting to rest against the side of Alex’s jaw. “You never give up, do you?” he asks, and the wonder in his tone tells Alex that they’re having two different conversations. It’s enough to make his heartbeat pick up the pace, and Alex tries to give himself another reminder that this _can’t_ be what it seems, but months of patience and repressed desire makes him reckless.

Slowly, Alex lifts his own hand to cover the one still cupping his jaw, and he smiles, small and hopeful, at Michael. He knows that the other man will be able to see everything he’s feeling if he cares to look; Alex is good at hiding his emotions when he has to, but Michael knows him too well, and he’s too tired of fighting for nothing to even try. It’s time to be honest, both of them — and if this goes sideways, maybe, at the very least, Alex will be able to break the holding pattern he’s been stuck in for half a year.

“Not on things that matter,” he whispers, and despite all the stern warnings he’d been giving himself a mere moment ago, Michael is _touching him_ like he hasn’t in months, in the way no one has in just as long. The unintentional isolation was enough, several months ago, to drive Alex to excess drinking and an ill-advised attempt at a kiss. Michael had rebuffed him — kindly, of course, and with an explanation that had given Alex hope for the future — but it had still stung, still translated in his mind as _Guerin really doesn’t want me_. So as much as Alex aches to haul Michael in by the collar of his flannel and kiss him senseless, he doesn’t.

Instead, Alex waits, all of his most vulnerable parts on display, and _hopes_.

Michael’s so close Alex can count each of his individual eyelashes, and he takes a moment to appreciate that the haunted, lonely look has vanished from his face. In its place is a crooked smirk, a more honest approximation of the expression that has gotten Alex in his bed more than once in the past decade. It’s so good to see him smile, to see the tension begin to ease from his shoulders, that Alex nearly forgets the want building in his gut — nearly.

“You matter to me, too,” Michael murmurs, and then there’s no more waiting. There’s a hand at the back of his head and another at his collar and rough lips against his, moving tentatively and so unlike Michael’s usual gestures of affection that Alex has to take control for a moment. He tangles his fingers in the curls nearest his hands and _pulls_ , trying to remind Michael without words that he doesn’t need to hesitate, that Alex has been here this whole time, waiting, and there’s _no chance_ of rejection. No walking away.

It’s all too easy, then, as soon as Michael takes the cue and deepens the kiss, to forget where they are and why. As always, as soon as their lips align, Alex forgets everything but the way Michael tastes on his tongue and the feel of their bodies pressed against one another. Reasonable thought goes up in flames, burned to ash by the heat they generate when they share space, and Alex is half in Michael’s lap before he even realizes how he got there, bad leg extended to help him keep his balance. It’s heady and overwhelming and everything he’s been missing since the last time he was allowed to this, and Alex never wants it to end.

A firm hand on his stops the exploration beneath the hem of Michael’s shirt. “No,” a rough voice tells him, the word spoken against Alex’s lips. Instantly, Alex pulls away and all but falls out of Michael’s lap and into the dirt, kiss-swollen and breathless and suddenly nauseous with anxiety. Michael said ‘no.’ Michael stopped him, pushed him away. Again. _Michael still doesn’t want him._ Fuck, when is he going to learn that Manes men don’t get happy endings? When is he going to stop doing this to himself? How many times is he going to have to piece himself together when he and Michael can’t make this thing between them work?

“Hey, stay with me,” Michael says, and there are gentle fingers on his jaw, making him meet Michael’s gaze. It hurts to do so, but Alex is done being a victim. He’d said six months ago that he was only going to fight his own battles from then on, and fighting for Michael Guerin is the only one that’s ever really been worth it.

“Look,” Alex starts, his voice harsher than he’d intended. “I know you’re still figuring things out, Guerin. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and everything between us is complicated — but both of us being miserable and alone isn’t going to solve any of that! It’s not going to bring Max back, and it’s damn sure not going to help you deal with what my father did. But I’m not my father, Michael! I’m _not_ , and it’s taken me six months to realize that there’s never any chance of becoming him.” That revelation had been a long time coming, and hard-fought, but Alex isn’t worried about becoming Jesse Manes anymore. He may not be a good man, and he may not deserve forgiveness for the mistakes he’s made, but Alex is no genocidal maniac, and he never will be.

Michael shakes his head and opens his mouth, his eyes wide, but Alex cuts him off. “No. I need to say this, okay? Just — let me. I’m in love with you, Michael. That hasn’t changed. You can date a hundred other people, and it’ll still be true. You could take another ten years to figure out if you can be with me, and my feelings won’t change. You’re my family, my safe place, and I —” Much to his shame, Alex’s voice shakes. “I need you. But if you can’t do this? If you really, honestly, don’t think we’re ever going to be able to work this out, I need to know. Because I can’t keep waiting around and breaking my own heart forever.”

The words hurt so much to say they may as well have been burned into his skin, but Alex pushes them through gritted teeth anyway. He doesn’t want to hear that it’s really over, isn’t sure he’ll be able to keep it together long enough to escape Michael’s presence before he breaks completely, but maybe, if he finally hears the truth, he’ll be able to do something. Move out of town, maybe. Find a city somewhere to start over. Do _something_ other than take turns walking away with Michael Guerin.

“Alex, what are you — I just kissed you,” Michael reminds him, the genuine incredulity in his eyes making more of an impression on Alex than the words. “What the hell did you think that was?”

Alex blinks, taken aback by the question. “I - you said ‘no,’” he protests, though it’s weaker than it should be. He’s realized, belatedly, that he jumped to conclusions without giving Michael a chance to say anything, but he absolutely refuses to get his hopes up again.

“I said ‘no’ because we were about two minutes from having sex in front of my brother,” Michael says dryly, and gestures with his chin to the pod. “Not that he’d notice, but —” he shifts uncomfortably, eyes lingering on Max’s still form beneath the cloudy glass. “Doesn’t exactly feel right, you know? Plus, we’d have sand in all sorts of uncomfortable places, and I’m not a big fan of chafing.” He shoots a grin over his shoulder at Alex, but he can read the nervousness in the expression. Michael’s just as unsure as he is, and neither of them are handling this as well as they could be.

Alex exhales shakily, and nods once. “That … makes sense.” Chewing at the inside of his cheek, he shifts, trying to get comfortable on the ground again. “So, just to be sure we’re on the same page, that kiss meant –?”

“That kiss meant that you matter to me, too,” Michael repeats his earlier words immediately, a fond smile on his face, that temporarily masks the exhaustion and grief of the past half a year. “And that I’m just as fucking tired of waiting as you are. I can’t promise I’m going to be easy to put up with —”

“When were you ever?” Alex tosses back, and despite his best efforts, hope balloons in his chest.

“— and I have to make Max my priority. I owe it to Isobel and Liz, and _him_ ,” Michael continues, as if Alex never spoke. He’s running the pads of his fingers over the back of the hand Jesse Manes had once taken a hammer to, obviously remembering one of the many things he wants to talk to his brother about, but can’t. “But if you’re sure you want to sign up for this, then I’m not going anywhere.”

This is something that Alex has been hoping to put up with for the last six months. Michael sees himself as an outsider, as someone not worth the love that he so richly deserves, because that’s what life has taught him. What Alex has taught him, inadvertently. And there are plenty of reasons for them to not be together — Jesse Manes and his alien crusade at the top of the list. But Alex isn’t afraid of aliens or his father anymore. His only fear is living a life without Michael Guerin in it, and if he doesn’t have to face that reality, he can face just about anything else.

“Sign, huh? Is there a dotted line somewhere?” Alex asks, his heart pounding so loudly he’s sure Michael can hear it. “Or is this the kind of deal we seal with a kiss?”

Michael laughs, unrestrained and genuinely _happy_ , and every insecurity and doubt Alex feels melts away in the warmth of that sound. Because if he can make Michael happy, even for just this moment in the midst of the madness they’re enduring, then everything has been worth it. He leans in close, trusting Michael to support him, and presses their lips together in silent promise.


End file.
